Mossad Agents Don't Get Sick Days
by Emilee Crumby
Summary: Ziva's got a bad cold and Tony tries to look after her. Mostly just friendship but feel free to imagine more.
1. Chapter 1

Across the pit Tony saw Ziva bury her head for the fifth time that morning beneath her desk. She seemed to be searching for something but the sharply muffled "kpfff!" alerted him to the reality. When she reemerged her nose was slightly pink and she sniffled discreetly. He stared at her, allowing only the faintest concern show through his large brown eyes.

"What are you staring at Tony?" she asked harshly, not looking up from her computer.

"I was just going to say that holding back a sneeze like that could make your head explode."

A faint blush spread through Ziva's cheeks but she managed to snap, "I don't know what you are talking about."

She stared at him coolly for a moment. Then, her smirk quickly vanished as she thrust a forefinger under her nose and sneezed again. Her shoulders bounced with the force but the noise was slight and, Tony thought, unusually ladylike for the no-nonsense Massad agent.

"Hey Ziva."

"What Tony," she snarled angrily.

"Bless you."

It was a slow day at NCIS and a perfect opportunity for everyone to finally catch up on paperwork. Gibbs had been summoned to the director's office where he spent the morning forced to explain and justify questionable expenses appearing on recent reports. It was a quarterly ritual and one sure to put Gibbs in the worst of moods. While he was detained, however, a light-hearted frivolity took over the pit.

McGee had been sent out for lunch and returned with a variety of dumplings from everyone's favorite take-out. Abby sat cross-legged on Tim's desk while she picked through her carton with chop-sticks.

"McGee you really should check out this club my friend's band is playing at. I think you'd get a total kick out of the goth scene."

"Abby," Tony called across the room. "Can you really picture McNerdy wearing chains and guyliner?"

Abby chuckled. "Not only can I imagine it but…"

She was cut off by McGee's frightened eyes and threatening gestures.

Tony looked between the two and sat up, excitement in his eyes. "Oh Abby, please tell me there are photos."

Before responding Abby turned towards the sound of Ziva sneezing again.

"Gesundheit," she said, eyeing her friend suspiciously. "You've been really quiet today Z, are you alright?"

"I am fine, Abby," replied Ziva in a slightly congested voice.

"Are you sure, 'cause you really don't look so good…"

"I am FINE, Abby," Ziva repeated in a raised voice.

At the hurt look on Abby's face, McGee rose and took a step towards his partner.

"Cool it Ziva." His forceful tone lightened quickly as Ziva looked up at him with pained eyes surrounded by dark circles. He dropped his voice and continued. "You know it's really slow around here today. It would be a perfect chance to take a sick day."

"I don't need a sick day, McGee," Ziva snarled. She looked into his eyes and then called to the moping Abby. "I'm sorry I snapped at you Abby."

"It's okay Ziva. I'll lay off."

The silence lingered a moment before Tim sat back down and turned his computer around to show Abby a new game he'd downloaded.

"I'm going down to Path to bring Ducky his order," Tony announced to no one in particular. As he headed past Ziva's desk, he reached into his bag of food and withdrew a small, plastic container. He placed it in front of the woman and whispered to her.

"Egg drop soup, nice and hot. It'll feel good on your throat." Without another word he headed towards the elevator.

Ziva quietly lifted the corner of the lid and inhaled the soothing steam before stealing a glance at Tony's retreating figure.


	2. Chapter 2

"Get your bags, we're headed out. Dead sailor found in a public park."

"Is it my imagination or is there an extra spring in his step?" McGee asked under his breath.

"What do you think? He just escaped an entire afternoon with the director," smirked Tony. "Conveniently timed if you ask me. Ow!"

The last came from the sharp smack delivered by Gibbs to the back of his head.

"A soldier's death is never convenient," said Gibbs.

"Yes boss."

"Heh-kpfff!"

Gibbs whirled around to see Ziva sheepishly holding a napkin to her nose.

"You sick, David?"

She made sure to clear her throat before replying. "No Gibbs. I am fine."

He eyed her for a moment. "Well then what are you doing standing around for?"

She scurried to grab her bag and sprint to the elevator. Only a moment behind her, McGee thought to grab a handful of tissues from the box on his desk. He would slip them to her in the van, discreetly enough not to injure her pride.

Later he was glad he had thought to. While Tony drove, Gibbs read through the preliminary information from the case. Ziva and McGee sat in the back and, while he took notes, she pinched the tip of her nose with a Kleenex in an obvious effort not to sneeze. It was painful to watch and McGee wished he could comfort her without running the risk of being put into a choke hold.

"Hello Jethro," boomed Ducky as the foursome stepped from the van into the frosty afternoon air. "I think this may be a first. I don't know that we've ever before beat you to a crime scene, something for which we can surely not credit Mr. Palmer. You know he insisted I needed to take a left on 12th St.?"

"I maintain, doctor," spoke the slender assistant, "We would have gotten here just as quickly had we taken 12th."

"Well with your track record, Mr. Palmer, you can hardly blame me for doubting you."

"Hey! Guys!" yelled Gibbs. They fell silent and looked at the team leader. "Body?"

"Oh yes," returned Ducky, pushing up his glasses. "He was found in situ here at the edge of the lake."

"Are you sure he was killed there?" asked McGee while he snapped a photograph of the lake as a whole.

"Oh yes, Timothy. In forensic pathology determining the location of death is often the easiest part. You can see by the purple bruises surrounding his back and buttocks…"

"Ducky," snapped Gibbs.

"Jethro the thing is, our victim has not been moved… but he has been undressed."

The team looked up in interest as the ME walked them to the crime scene where, sure enough, a dead and naked man lay in the frost-covered grass.

"Well," started Tony. "Clearly he was undressed before he was killed."

"Why do you say that?" asked Jimmy.

"I'm just saying," smiled Tony through his teeth and raising his eyebrows suggestively. "He looks like he felt the cold."

Each man tilted his head for a moment, looking oddly at the corpse. McGee lifted his camera and Ziva coughed quietly into her arm.

Gibbs recovered first and started barking out orders. "McGee, you start photographing the crime scene. Ziva and Tony… see if you can find his clothes. We need some sort of ID at least."

As the trio headed off to their respective duties, Ducky tugged on the sleeve of Gibb's jacket.

"Jethro, is Ziva alright? She looks to be coming down with something."

Gibbs watched his team fan out and replied, "She's sick all right. But until she admits it, I need her to do her job."

"Poor girl," clucked the doctor. "She is very proud. Not unlike someone else I can think of."

Gibbs smiled absently as he moved to begin the investigation.

"Heh… heh-kpfff!"

"Bless you."

"Thank you, Tony," Ziva replied through a blush.

"You know it really isn't good to hold them in like that." He knelt to sift through some dead leaves as he spoke.

"And you are a doctor now?"

"I've just had my share of illnesses. That's all."

"I'm not sick, Tony," she kicked over a rotting piece of wood.

"Yeah, sure you're not. You're just pale and shivering and can't go five minutes without sneezing…"

Surprised at the lack of angry interjection, Tony looked up to see the petite woman staring vaguely into the air. Her nose twitched and her eyes teared up.

"Don't hold it back," Tony told her adamantly.

"I… ha.. haacheww!" She doubled at the waist as she let out a powerful sneeze.

"Aha," said Tony triumphantly. "Now that's the sort of sneeze I'd imagine a hard-ass Massad agent having."

Ziva groaned and wiped her nose. "I hate you so much right now."

"Why? Doesn't that feel better?"

Ziva didn't reply, instead darting forward.

"Tony, I think I see something."

The two looked out across the sparkling white lake, frozen through in the late January ice. There, about 3 yards out, lay a wallet.

Ziva moved forward to retrieve it but Tony held a hand out.

"No way. I'm not letting you fall through that ice. Let me. Or ever better, let's go get the Probie."

"Do not be ridiculous, Tony. I weigh half as much as either of you. I will get the wallet."

Without allowing for further discussion, Ziva began to inch onto the ice. Without a slip she snatched the wallet and tossed it lightly back onto land. Tony picked it up and was rifling through when he heard a loud cracking noise. His heart was into his throat when he saw the flash of curly, brown hair disappearing below the surface of the ice.

"Ziva!" he cried, rushing forth.

Fortunately she had fallen very close to shore and Tony was able to pull her out without falling in. He dragged the soaking wet woman onto land as she shivered spasmodically. Instantly Tony had ripped off her heavy and sodden jacket and replaced it with his own. The hair on his arms stood as cold air bit him and he ached to think of the pain Ziva must be feeling.

"You- you have- have the wallet?" She sputtered through clenched teeth.

"Shut up, Ziva," he hissed. "Worry about yourself for once." He wrapped both arms around the tiny woman and tried to press his body heat into her.


	3. Chapter 3

"Morning McGee, Morning Tony," Gibbs stopped short and took a step back to see Ziva. "What are you doing here? I remember giving you specific orders to take the day off."

"I told her so Boss," cut in Tony from his desk.

"Shut up, Dinozzo."

"I'b fide Gibbs. I really wadt to see this case through," Ziva looked up at her boss through a shrewdly projected veil of composure. Her voice was all but gone and her cheeks betrayed a fever with a hint of a blush.

"I don't give a damn what you want, David," said Gibbs simply. "You need to go home. You need to go to bed." He lowered his voice and leaned in towards her. "I need you to get well." He stood back up. "Now get out of here."

In a huff, Ziva grabbed her knapsack and left.

A knock on the door brought Ziva out of her trance. She pulled the headphones from her ears and, in a flurry, tried to clean the mess of used tissues from the kitchen table.

"Cubbing," she called hoarsely to the front door.

When she pulled it open there was no other than Tony DiNozzo leaning against her doorframe.

"Ah," she said when she saw him. "Did you brig be the case files?"

"I did not," he replied moving past her into the small apartment. "Jesus Ziva, have you never taken a sick day before?"

She furrowed her brows and followed his gaze the the pile of papers and CDs scattered across her kitchen table.

"I have purchased language CDs. I think it is time I picked up Hindi. Did you know it is spoken by over…" her breath hitched and she turned away from Tony just in time to sneeze strongly into her elbow. "Hetchew!"

"Gesundheit."

"Danke," replied Ziva with a smile. "I thik Germad will be dext. I do dot expect Hindi to take very long at all…"

She was cut off by the look of dismay on Tony's face.

"What's wrong?" she sniffled.

"You are," his voice was full of contempt and disbelif. "You're doing it all wrong. I mean look at you. Your hair's pulled up tight, you're wearing combat boots… you need to change. Now, go change into something comfortable."

Ziva started to protest that what she was wearing was fine but Tony cut her off with a commanding, "Sweatpants… I want to see sweatpants!" and she darted to her bedroom with a scowl.

When she had disappeared Tony began to survey the apartment. He remembered his own convalescence with _y. Pestis_ and had packed accordingly. In his bag was a collection of his all-time favorite movies, perfect for anyone's sick day. Additionally he had gifts from everyone. There were magazines, DVDs, and home remedies galore.

He fanned out his spread on the coffee table when he heard Ziva's hacking cough from the back room. After quickly surveying the kitchen he found a kettle and began to prepare a tea that Ducky swore would cure any sore throat. Moments later he heard shuffling behind him and turned to see Ziva standing with a vacant look in her eyes.

"You okay?" he asked suspiciously.

"I have to sdeeze," she frowned. "But it is stuck."

She tilted her head back another centimeter and closed her eyes with a deep breath. After an eternity she opened her eyes again and growled.

"I thought that was it. This is drivig be crazy."

"Try looking into the light," Tony suggested.

Ziva did and, a moment later her breath began to hitch. Again she froze until the sneeze left once more and she stomped her foot in frustration.

If an angry Ziva weren't usually equated with a violent Ziva, Tony would have laughed.

"Oh wait," he said with a thought, and began to dig in his bag.

"It is dot as though I have a choice," Ziva said sniffling and rubbing her nose.

"Here," Tony produced a jar of what appeared to be ranch salad dressing. "Abby makes this balm that'll clear up your sinuses in a second."

He unscrewed the lid and held it under Ziva's nose. The air filled with the spicy smell of lavendar, and peppermint.

"Ooh," Ziva inhaled sharply and Tony thrust a clean tissue at her just in time for her to sneeze violently into it twice. "Hehchew!! HEH cheww!"

She smiled in contentment.

"Bless you Ziva," Tony smiled fondly.

"Thack you."

He held up a DVD with a black and white image on the cover.

"Now this, Ziva," he began in an instructive tone, "is Humphrey Bogart. He is an American icon. This is Casablanca, sure to cure whatever ails you."

Ziva narrowed her eyes but did not speak and so Tony continued, moving into the living room.

"This is a couch. This is where sick people spend their time."

"And this," she said with a derisive sniff, "is stupid. I am perfectly able to work. Did you really not bring the case file?"

"I really didn't," Tony grinned. "Come on Ziva, didn't you ever take sick days with Mossad?"

"I was a trained assassin. I was not allowed to get sick. Weakness is not tolerated by Mossad."

Tony eyed her keenly as the staring contest commenced. Ziva, usually the more willful of the two, quickly lost as a shiver ran through her body. In one swift motion, Tony had snatched an afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it snugly around Ziva's shoulders. He let his smile fade as he rested a hand against the back of her neck and looked warmly into her eyes.

"Well then," he said kindly, "it's a good thing you came to America."


End file.
